DestinedForJohnlock's Bits and Pieces
by Destined for Johnlock
Summary: This is a collection of snippets of things that just beg to be written. Likely no plot, probably a lot of smut or sexual themes. They're each very short and titled only with the pairings involved. Because I don't just ship Johnlock.
1. Mystrade

There's something to be said about being bound and blindfolded, clothed from the waist up, shirt and coat unbuttoned and pushed over his shoulders earlier to trap his hands. He's helplessly out of breath. Mycroft knows he must look completely ravished, hair disheveled and face a dusky shade of pink in contrast with the light splatter of freckles that adorn his nose and cheeks. His lips are parted, swollen and wet and red, and there's the ghost of another breath on them, whispering dirty promises he can't comprehend, not when his body is overly sensitive already, not when he's writhing in another person's lap, completely filled and helpless save for the growing pressure of pleasure he feels from his toes to the base of his spine. His hips twitch, another quick drag of hard skin against his prostate. But he keeps quiet, bottom lip caught between his own teeth. He feels the heat of the other body come closer, relishes in the gentle scratch of wool against his exposed skin, a lapel, a cold button that burns on his heated skin for a second. Mycroft arches into it, feels the stubble of a shave long neglected at the junction of his neck and shoulder. Two strong, calloused hands slowly slide up his trembling thighs, curling around his hips, thumbs pressing into the hollow of skin just beneath them. Then he hears the rough timbre of the other man's voice just beneath his ear, vibrating through his skin and body, and Mycroft shivers in anticipation.

"You've been such a good boy," Lestrade murmurs against Mycroft's skin, over one of several bruises he's left over the course of the evening. Mycroft is rewarded with a rock of hips and allows himself to whimper. "Such a good boy for _Daddy_."


	2. Sherstrade

It starts out innocently enough. Or as innocently as anything does with Sherlock.

_The average refractory period for a man your age is roughly two hours. SH_

_Mine is one. SH_

Sherlock makes sure to text Lestrade while he's at work. And not just at work, but at crime scenes, surrounded by his coworkers.

With the mad detective there himself.

_Now's not the time_ Greg texts back, pocketing his phone with a quick glance toward Sherlock, who of course continues to rattle off deductions to John while texting back. Greg ignores it until he hears news from forensics regarding a piece of evidence, by which point things are wrapping up.

_Flat's ours this weekend. Plenty of time to see just how long your refractory period is. SH_

_For science. SH_

They take advantage of it, with John out of town visiting family and Mrs. Hudson away for the better part of the day.

Things progress from there. Sherlock sends explicit texts detailing what he wants that particular afternoon, oftentimes in Lestrade's office. In Sherlock's mind, they play out scenes in various parts of NSY: Sherlock is interrogated for something heinous and Lestrade gets answers from lips swollen and dripping with his release, Lestrade getting fed up with Sherlock's mouthy snark at a crime scene and punished in his office when they're back at the station, Sherlock seducing Lestrade for case information. Ok, so the last one happens every once in a while, usually when Greg's sated after a particularly spectacular shag. As much as he'd love to indulge in Sherlock's fantasies, they keep it strictly between their flats.

Then there's a day when Greg is swamped with work, running off of four hours of sleep and two pots of coffee in his system when he receives a picture message from Sherlock. It's an above view from his mouth down, with the focus on his parted lips, long neck stretched and exposed, and the top two buttons of his maroon shirt unbuttoned, fingers teasing the third. He's in his room, lying in bed, shades drawn back to let natural light pour into it.

_It's awfully hot for this time of year. SH_

Greg stares a moment too long before (painfully) tearing his gaze from it to reply later. He has absolutely no time for distraction.

Naturally, Sherlock sends another one twenty minutes later. This time, his shirt is gone, exposing his bare chest, and his trousers and pants are pushed down his hips, barely concealing him. He has two longer fingers in his mouth, both glistening with saliva and his tongue curled around the side of one.

_Figured I'd prep ahead of time; should these suffice? SH_

His eyes are still kept from view, and it sends a sort of thrill of anonymity through Greg when he opens the message without thinking. Donovan's disgusted after she realizes what Lestrade's abrupt shift in his seat is about, but continues on anyway. Greg thinks to apologize, but decides against it. No point in pressing an awkward situation.

Hours drag, paperwork gets done, arrests made and processed, and Greg finally has a reprieve from work. His phone chimes again and he doesn't hesitate to open the message from Sherlock. This time, he's in Lestrade's flat, sitting in his favourite chair, and graces Lestrade with a close up view of him sucking the head of his own cock into his mouth, cheeks hollow and curls hanging loosely around his jaw.

_This could be you. SH_

_My cock?_

_Your lips. SH_

Greg gets into his car and takes time to breathe, head tipped back and hand absently stroking his growing erection. He adjusts in his seat and unzips his trousers, pulling them down to expose his pants, bulge straining against the fabric. He runs a fingertip from base to head, shivering at the sensation and grabbing his phone to snap a couple of pictures, sending the best of the bunch to Sherlock.

_Can't wait._


	3. Mormor

In any Alpha/Omega relationship, there are expectations from each partner. An Alpha is expected to provide for their partner, more often than not financially so. They court, bond, and breed, carry on a lineage with their selected partner and contribute to the general populace. An Omega dutifully works to please their Alpha, in simpler times keeping house, bearing children, and playing the submissive half in the romanticized imbalance. This is what society expects, and while there are some couples who deviate, many are happy to fulfil those roles.

Sebastian and Jim are so far from typical, it's laughable; an Omega criminal mastermind with his right hand Alpha doing his bidding, killing when told and generally being Jim's bitch. It's how they function, Jim bosses him around and Sebastian takes it all in stride, because there is nothing in the world that he would trade for the relationship they have. Sebastian's a prick when his ego's been stroked, and Jim cuts him back down to size. Possession is never an issue, everything was Jim's, including Sebastian, and Seb just has the privilege of living with him. Power hungry Omega and compliant Alpha. In their own way, it works, and it works really fucking well.

But every couple of months, they inevitably fall victim to their respective biology. Jim becomes a wanton little thing once the initial stubborn fight subsides and Sebastian takes Jim, asserts the dominance that comes with being Alpha and marks Jim's body with teeth and nails and knot. His voice, low and rumbling and drunk off pheromones, promises to fill Jim, fill him with release, with pups, promises to stake his claim over and over and over again. And Jim, in the middle of it all, whines and agrees, anything to get Sebastian to fuck him harder, faster, take care of the itch he can't satiate without the Alpha.

It's phenomenal sex. Granted, between bouts of fucking, they lie together and try to forget they've been reduced to empty promises and desperate begging. It's something they don't discuss, not after Sebastian made the mistake of pushing the subject the first time they shared a heat. At the time, Sebastian was nothing more than a convenience for Jim. Now, though, there was something more to those few days than orgasmic bliss. There's a connection, one they're both aware of that Jim refuses to acknowledge with Sebastian. But he keeps him around.

Jim's heats start off the same way every time. He knows the very day they happen, meticulously tracking them to accommodate his and Sebastian's schedule. He stocks the flat over the week, pays the bills, and sends Sebastian on a day-long hit first thing on the morning it's due, when the scent of pre-heat begins to settle in the flat. Sebastian leaves knowing he'll come home to an Omega in full-blown heat. It's not Jim, or not the Jim he's used to, but another person entirely. It's the frenzy that does it, reduces even the cleverest men to biological needs. Jim stays at the flat to slip into heat, Sebastian comes home and the change is instantaneous.

Sebastian knows it's about time when he sees food and water piled in the fridge, crumbs from a few snacks left on the counter while Jim's in some other room taking care of last-minute business, no doubt munching on something else, his body's natural response to the long periods of time he'll refrain from eating in favour of milking Sebastian's knot instead. He showers, cleans himself thoroughly since it's to last for a couple of days, granted they're not guaranteed a longer break between bouts to shower together in the midst of the days-long affair. By the time he's out and dried off, Jim's already in their bedroom. His scent is stronger than it ought to be for that time of night, not when his heat isn't due for another twenty four hours or so. He finds Jim curled up beneath the sheets, face buried in the pillow Sebastian usually sleeps on, and there's a cord plugged into the socket that disappears into the bed.

He eyes Jim from the bedroom door for a moment, drying his hair as best he can before he tosses the towel into a hamper and shuts the overhead light off, leaving Jim and their bedroom dimmed in lamp light from their bedsides. His footsteps are muffled in the carpet, and he pulls the duvet back just enough to sit on his side of the bed. He sees Jim's legs curled up toward his chest and feels the warmth radiating from the heating pad Jim's curled around. Sebastian's brows furrow, and he chances a touch in Jim's hair, running his fingers through it. Jim makes a noise, tries to stifle it against Sebastian's pillow, and his body tenses. Sebastian stills his hand and watches, waiting for something, an order or a sign of some sort.

What he doesn't expect is a muffled groan, then big, sad, brown eyes looking up at him, pleading, and a quiet, pitiful voice from London's most dangerous man.

"It _hurts_."

Sebastian's heart breaks. This is what Jim sends him away for, so he doesn't have to sit here and watch as the Omega suffers through pre-heat symptoms. Jim doesn't like pity, loathes feeling helpless. His body's influence on the Alpha is his power, he's in charge during his heats, he calls the shots. Sebastian was never meant to see this. He wasn't supposed to be given another reason to feel like the Omega owed him for _helping _him through his heats. Jim can handle himself, and then Sebastian is his to take on, not the other way around. Jim isn't Sebastian's. That's not how it works between them. Sebastian is Jim's.

But this is different. Jim's given up, not even trying to protest. He's asking for help. All Sebastian can offer for the time being are some pain killers and back rubs, which seem to help once they have the meds in Jim's system and settle into a position Jim can move in if need be. Because Sebastian doesn't do anything for himself; everything is for Jim, it's always for Jim. Not the Omega that naturally craves an Alpha's care, not the heat that possesses them both, not the promise of days of sex and release. Jim takes care of his things: his flat, his expanding criminal empire, his property. Jim generously gives to those deserving and asks for little else other than obedience. Sebastian will give him this, as he has given Jim his life, his autonomy.

Jim trusts Sebastian. Sebastian cares for Jim. Together, they make damn good Alpha/Omega pair. Ideal, perhaps not, but they complete each other. They respect and trust each other, and Sebastian looks forward to many more opportunities to ease Jim's burdens, be them physical or metaphorical. But for now, he's content to lie in bed with Jim, answering to every request Jim has, just as he always does.


End file.
